


Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh

by sadchilles



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Gore, Guro, Heavy Angst, I Don't Even Know, J.D is fucked up but he can feel regret?, Nightmares?, consider that your warning, honestly, the most fucked up thing I've ever written, this is so fucked up, this was mostly vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadchilles/pseuds/sadchilles
Summary: JD can't sleep. He thinks of Veronica. He thinks of how he cares for her. He thinks of how he wants to rip her to shreds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shake it Out by Florence + the Machine.  
> Again, this fic is fucked. Lotsa gore, nothing positive, it's just JD being a freak and me needing to vent. I'll post something happy when I get out of this pit.

Moonlight streams through the open curtains, brushing its white fingers across everything, lighting up the bedroom in way that would make it impossible to sleep if JD wasn’t already being kept awake. Veronica is haunting him, and it’s in a way that makes him want to hide his face in shame. He cares for her, much more than he thought he’d ever be able to care for anyone since everything went numb, but there are those feelings, the strange warmth in his chest when she’s around. But that warmth is no match for the dark, disgustingly toxic part of his mind that reaches out and wraps its tendrils around every pure thought, infecting it, staining it deep red. She’d leave him if she knew the things he thought about when he let the sadistic part of his mind run wild with his ideas.

He blinks, rubbing his eyes, and there she is, standing a few feet from the foot of his bed, the silver light of midnight making her body glow, making her look almost ethereal. A porcelain goddess, living and breathing in his bedroom, the marble of her face carved in a way that makes her expression soft, welcoming, inviting.  _ Taint me, _ it says,  _ ruin me.  _ Her perfect lips part, and he tells himself it’s to whisper a confession that’s thick with affection that will wrap around him, keep him warm when the world gets so, so cold. But a rivulet of thick, nearly black blood slips from the corner of her mouth. Seconds stretch into hours as it drips down off her chin and falls, pooling on the wooden floor of JD’s bedroom. He watches, completely fascinated. Another bead rolls down the pale skin of her face and joins its twin on the floor. He scarcely breathes, let alone moves, and the carnal, predatory monster that has made a home in his gut wants to leap forward, chase the blood with his tongue, make her clean again. A small, desperate sound leaves him and his grip on his bedsheets tightens.

A deep crimson grin gashes itself across her throat, and he can hear the arteries snapping under that invisible blade, skin being ripped by his own teeth. That thought winds him. It’s a grisly cacophony that does nothing to quell the flame of interest roaring in him and certainly doesn’t satisfy the beast that wants more, that wants to tear into Veronica’s flesh, completely mutilate her until all that is left is blood and organs and bones that he will treasure until God strikes him down for his crime against an angel like her. The slit in her neck gushes red, more red, so much red. It runs over her breasts, down her stomach, down her thighs. There’s so much blood, the scent of it fills JD’s nose, almost like new pennies. He’s convinced it’ll seep through the floor, splatter his father’s face, gag him until the pig is dead, dead, dead. The feral monster in him roars its disgust at the thought of a man so unworthy getting a taste of his Veronica’s blood. 

Despite the blood loss, Veronica doesn’t fall, crumple to the floor. JD doesn’t want that, he wants her hair to stay clean, he wants to wipe his bloody fingers in it when he’s done. She simply watches him, smiling with bloody teeth, her eyes bright and gleaming in the light of the moon. He wants the moon to go away, that silent spectator that garners some delight from what is his, his, his. Only his. Veronica will only ever be his. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, his voice soft as it cracks the silence in two.

She nods, steps forward until she’s at the foot of his bed, within his reach. He shuffles away from the headboard, gets up on his knees. He places a gentle hand on her cheek, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone.

“You’d leave me if you knew. You’d hate me so much.” He whispers.

Veronica doesn’t deny it. JD doesn’t give her a chance to. He leans in, captures her lips in a brutal, unforgiving kiss. Her lips are so cold, but the blood staining them is so hot, it rivals the fire in his chest. He bites at her mouth, shredding the thin skin and licking the blood away, letting the taste of copper run over his tongue. He moans into her open mouth, his hold on her face tightens. He digs in his nails, he breaks the skin, watches blood well at the small wounds by not spill. It sits there, waiting. 

Through the whole thing, Veronica doesn’t lose that blissful smile.  _ She loves it,  _ he tells himself,  _ she wants me to tear her apart, she wants to do the same to me.  _

JD licks over her cheek, cleaning those little wounds in a way that’s far better than any antiseptic could do. He soon pulls away, dizzy and giddy, high off the sweet taste of His Veronica. His eyes are pinned to the wound at her throat which is still pumping blood, more and more gushing from her. It should be impossible, nobody could possibly bleed this much, nobody could possibly stay standing, but it doesn’t surprise him. His Veronica is better than all else. 

Slowly, he places the pad of a fingertip against the gash, shuddering at the heat of the scarlet nectar against his skin. He pushes it, digs it deep into the torn flesh and ripped veins, before he curls all of his fingers into it. His eyes flick up to Veronica’s and his gaze is so filled with love, adoration, pleading. She nods once, answering his silent plea, and he jerks his arm back forcefully. 

A sizeable chunk of flesh is wrenched from her neck, and it’s searing hot in his hand. He holds it like a treasure. He cradles it in his hands, whimpering softly. 

“Why are you letting me do this?”

Veronica reaches out, her fingers ghosting across JD’s face, her smile as lovely as ever.

“Because I love you.”


End file.
